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Why on Earth people, in Italy, still eat junk food?
A cold night in an Italian piazza. The air carries the scent of roasted chestnuts, espresso, and wood smoke—but here, under the halo of fairy lights, the smell is unmistakably different. Oil. Sugar. Processed salt. A small crowd stands in front of a street cart, its bicycle frame weighed down with canisters, bags, and the faint hum of a generator. The vendor moves with practised speed, ladling batter, folding paper, handing over parcels of deep-fried comfort. The queue is patient, hands buried in pockets, eyes following the ritual as if it were part of the winter tradition. Beyond the cart, a carousel spins in soft blur, its music faint against…
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A Silent Dialogue
A restrained coastal tableau built around stillness and separation. The seated figure is placed slightly right of centre, turned away from the viewer, which shifts emphasis from identity to gesture and mood. The backpack anchors the narrative as travel or pause, while its bulk balances the composition against the open sand. The scene is organised in three calm bands—foreground ripples of sand, a mid-ground strip of beach, and the softly textured sea beyond. This horizontal structure stabilises the frame and amplifies the contemplative register. A lone pigeon, small but sharply legible, introduces a secondary point of attention and a faint counter-rhythm to the figure’s inward focus. Colour is deliberately subdued:…
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My camera’s early test shots
Pictures with no specific “intent”. Just went to the docks and clicked around, to get an early feel of how does the camera work. Results: mixed feelings.
